


Synergy

by sparklyslug



Series: In the Course of Human Events [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, codum, quorda, quorum coda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyslug/pseuds/sparklyslug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>syn•er•gy:<br/>1: acting together.<br/>2: (business/commerce) working together in a creative, innovative, and productive manner. </p><p>Some of the events of “Quorum,” told from Tony’s point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark wasn’t exactly a patient kind of guy.

It wasn’t like he’d ever had to be. He was a big fan of the whole holy and sanctified American ideal of instant gratification. For the most part, life had been happy to give him what he wanted. Without too long of a wait, either.

Being decisive was a big part of it. He knew that. Because wanting something is the first step to having it, right? And Tony generally knew what he wanted. Have an idea, then make it happen. Want a painting/car/shiny new toy; get it. Meet a woman with _those_ eyes or a man with _that_ smile; take them home. Tony really didn’t get why people get so hung up on the ‘but what do I _really_ want?’ and ‘how do I _get_ what I want?’ brand of whining. As a rule, Tony didn’t like to be around those kind of people.

All of that changed in Afghanistan.

The shittiest part was, he didn’t realize it at first. For a while, things had worked as they always had. Want to not have a car battery wired into your chest? Make something that can replace it (and handily rewrite a few accepted notions in engineering at the same time). Want to escape from your homey cave prison? Make yourself something that’s part medieval weaponry and part science fiction, and blow your way out of there. The way Tony had been living, the same rules applied. And he got home, even after yeah, easily the worst experience of his life, and it all seemed to still work out the same for him. No problem, no lasting damage, he was still Tony Stark and he still ran the show.

Then there had been the Obie thing. And Tony had realized that yeah, the rules by which he’d lived his life were all just smoke.

After that it had just gotten worse. Want to get a full night’s sleep? Want to take a stranger home without panicking about taking off your shirt? Want to be able to sit comfortably in a dark bedroom, a movie theater, an elevator?

Well, tough.

It didn’t matter what Tony wanted. Wanted with the same single-minded focus that had always done the trick before. Effort, brains, charm, and sheer willpower could take him so far. But no farther. _No farther_. A concept Tony had never really run into before.

What had been easy, going after what he wanted, was now almost impossible. So how was he supposed to approach the cloudier things he wanted, the ones where what he wanted at all was fuzzy even to him?

He’d been fuzzy when it came to what he wanted from Loki Gard for a long, long time.

But maybe it just took Afghanistan for all that, long buried under over five years worth of distraction and other people and other things and _not thinking about it_ , to come right back. Though maybe it would have happened anyway.

After Afghanistan. After Obie. Tony would sit in front of his bank of computer monitors, catching up on political news. It wasn’t about Loki. It was about being prepared, being connected, not falling out of the world, now that he had realized what role he had played in how fucked up it was. An accidental role. But it had happened, and the name of Stark Industries was all over it.

And there had been a lot of Loki. Well, more Thor, of course. But Tony could catch sight of Loki once in a while. Standing behind Thor as his brother spoke, the only one in the whole adoring lineup behind Thor who wasn’t looking at this golden god of a guy preaching about whatever stump speech he was onto at the time. Loki’s eyes, the icy blue of them clear even through the shitty news feed cameras, would move across the crowd, flicking over faces that Tony couldn’t see, restless and calculating and constantly on edge, constantly turning something over and and over in his head. Thor put on a good show, but it was Loki that Tony would watch. Every time.

He didn’t still want him. That would be crazy, given how shitty their crash and burn had been, given how much time had passed, given how different they both were. Tony didn’t still want him.

But Thor’s star was rising. And Loki started to vanish from behind Thor, appearing more and more at the fringes, caught by the camera mostly in unstaged moments. Handed Thor a stack of papers. Stepped out of a car behind him. Stood on an airplane tarmac, drinking coffee and determinedly ignoring the camera flashes trained on his brother as he stepped out of a plane. But overall, Loki started to slip back from whatever CNN could catch. And Tony noticed.

He didn’t want Loki. Or, at least, he didn’t think he did. He wanted to see more of Loki, that was for sure, since he was getting more and more pissed off at how hard the asshole was to find. But he wasn’t sure what he wanted _with_ Loki. From him.

But for a start, he wanted to see more of him. So maybe he could figure the rest of it out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> corresponds to Chapter 1 of Quorum

Pepper found him really easily. Not that surprising, but Tony still sent her a sour glare over his heaping spoonful of kimchi. He’d left his steak tartare on the table pretty soon after Loki had left. And left something like a 400% tip, which hopefully would make up for leaving both their meals untouched. But yeah, he hadn’t felt much like eating then. He didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment either, more the drive to do something, and no desire whatsoever to go anywhere he usually went or see anyone he usually saw.

“You’ve got your ‘you missed a meeting’ face on,” Tony told her. “But I know for a fact that I cleared my schedule for today.”

“My ‘you missed a meeting’ face is probably pretty similar to my ‘you’ve been missing for hours and I was starting to worry you were dead’ face,” Pepper said. She picked the spoon out of Tony’s hand and set it back into his bowl of bibimbop. “I’ve been calling you, but even JARVIS wasn’t responding. So I called Happy. He said you left the restaurant alone, and sent him back home.”

“Dirty rotten tattle-tale,” Tony said sourly. They were alone, since Tony had taken his bowl to the back alley behind Mogo. The owners didn’t generally mind. He’d been in and out like this for basically the last five years. Not that consistantly. Just, you know. When he really needed it.

“And I figured you’d be here,” Pepper continued. Reading his mind, as usual. “You usually are, when a... when something doesn’t go the way you planned it.”

Tony glared at the rice and beef in front of him, before setting the bowl on the ground. He wasn’t that hungry anymore. “Yeah. Well,” he said. “It didn’t.”

“But you thought it would?”

Tony tipped his head back against the brick, and closed his eyes. He could almost smell the dumpsters from here, the slight sour edge of spices that had gone off oddly like the smell of refuse from any kind of restaurant. Some comfort in that uniformity. The uniformity of trash. His hands twitched. A sure sign he needed lab time, when he started waxing poetic about the sweet sweet smell of rancid bulgogi.

“I kind of did,” he said, not opening his eyes. “For like, a solid minute before he opened his mouth, I did.” And in the moment of wild self-assurance where he’d told Pepper to cancel everything he had for the rest of the day, but yeah that didn’t really need to be mentioned again. Ever.

Pepper’s hand closed over his knee, a reassuring pressure, though she said nothing.

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, and opened his eyes. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

“No,” Pepper said gently. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Except that it _was,_ ” Tony said. “I just didn’t realize—”

But there was a lot there, and if he kept going it was all going to spill out, and he was just not. Not quite ready to open that up. Still a little raw from watching Loki spit venom at him, watching him get up and walk away, almost plowing over little waitresses like he didn’t even see them.

He had looked good. He had looked really, really good.

Which. That had been what was passing through his head, when Loki had approached the table, just when Tony had looked away from the door, the one second where his attention had wandered to the storm outside. What a fucking cliche, but it was true. _He looks good_ , Tony had thought, even though that wasn’t even close to the truth of it, what Tony had swallowed around as Loki had taken his seat across from him. Across the table from Tony.

Tony could make out a few differences right away. Longer hair. Slicked back neatly. The width of his shoulders. The subtle evidence of time passed and confidence gained, even in just how he looked around him. The slight signs of his hairline receding just a bit. The elegant cut and deceptive simplicity of his raincoat, vest, and shirt. A sign that he’d learned to dress himself at last, or at least hired someone who did. His face was a little thinner, but in a way that make the line of his jaw that much more powerful, more assured. Some lines in his forehead, just gentle tracings that Tony had already marked in the times he’d caught him on TV. Stress of the job. But just because he’d marked them on TV didn’t mean that he couldn’t mark them again, study them again, like he was seeing Loki for the first time. Drink him in again, because while he had seen Loki since... since the last time, not like this. Not without a screen between them, not where he could talk to Loki again. Not in any way that mattered.

And things had slotted into place, just looking at him.  Sitting across the table from him. Loki. Right there. So close that Tony could reach out and touch him, if he wanted. Nerves flared in Tony’s gut, with an intensity that he hadn’t even bothered to prepare for. Because what did he have to be nervous about? And yet, in front of Loki at last, the nerves had scared away everything he’d thought of saying.

“Hey,” was all he’d managed.  

And then Loki had opened his mouth. And yeah. Things had gotten a lot less good.

“You tried,” Pepper said. “Closure is a healthy thing, so at least—”

“Oh no, I’m not done,” Tony said. Huh. But yeah, turning to Pepper as he said it, voice strengthening with resolve, that’s really when he realized that he meant it. A thought he hadn’t managed to even form yet. But it was... before Loki had gotten pissed off, unleashing a depth of anger that Tony had honestly not expected _at all_ , he had gotten a taste of it, of how it felt, what it could be, to talk to Loki again. Just a little taste. Just enough.

But of course not enough. Not at all. Which had also been a surprise in a way. Because what had he expected? What had he even allowed himself to admit to, at the very beginning? Not much, if he was honest. The whole thing had gotten pretty far without Tony thinking of anything particular about it at all. The first idea, the lightning strike of an opportunity when it had become pretty clear that Sif would walk through fire (or at least get Fandral to do it) to get Tony involved in the campaign, had had no thought behind it. Nothing concrete. Nothing that Tony would allow himself to look at, to fix too much attention to.

Tony didn’t get what he wanted anymore. Safer, better, to not think about what he wanted at all. To act, to leap, to throw himself out the window and figure it all out as he fell. Hey, not exactly a healthy behavior. But Tony Stark had never exactly been a poster child for that kind of shit.

Plans had been made, schedules cleared, with no clear idea of what he wanted. Just to talk. To get Loki in bed. Small potatoes compared to what opened up at the sight of him, at the exchange (tense, uncertain, nervous, but not yet furious) of a few words.

“I’m not done,” he said again to Pepper, trying out the sound of it. And feeling how it knocked deep in his chest, a solid warmth that chased back the angry shock that had dogged him for hours.

Pepper’s eyebrow shot up. Not usually a good sign. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean it sounds like he wasn’t exactly receptive, Tony.”

“He wasn’t,” Tony said. He picked up his bowl and started shoveling eggy and sauce-covered rice into his mouth. “But I just wasn’t prepared for it, that’s all. I will be, next time.”

“Oh? And how are you going to convince him of that?” Pepper was trying not to smile at him, he could tell. He could always tell.

“I’ll... I’ll make a show of good faith,” Tony said indistinctly. And swallowed, thinking. “I’ll get him something.”

His eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “Think we can find one of those fancy cashmere scarf things that you’re always trying to get me to wear by tomorrow?”

Pepper frowned. “I don’t know. You realize it’s July, Tony?”

Tony waved it away. “Doesn’t matter. Look into it. Something green, something nice. I’m going to call Sif.”

He tucked into his food. Not that... nothing had changed. Not really. But it wasn’t over. He wouldn’t let it be over. Not just yet.

Tony Stark didn’t get what he wanted. And these days more often than not, Tony Stark didn’t even know what he wanted.

Except sitting across from Loki. Marking how the rain had darkened the shoulders of his raincoat and spoiled just a little the sleek line of his hair, tracking the movement of his eyes as he’d looked at their waiter, how he’d held the menu that he never even looked at. Looking. Talking. It hadn’t just felt like knowing what he wanted. It had felt like _getting_ what he wanted. Like the desire and the reward, all at the same time.

It had felt good. Just that, just him. It had felt good.

But it hadn’t felt like enough. So he wasn’t done. Not yet.

He was going to get Loki a scarf.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bibimbop and bulgogi are both Korean. Get some Korean food asap, it will make your life better and tastier.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> corresponds to the end of chapter 2

When the lights went out, it was just a few seconds after Tony had managed to relax. To tell himself that it was fine, that the basement apartment was cozy and safe and, most importantly, well-lit. To forget that they were under ground. To nod at Sif, listen to Fandral. To sit next to Loki. And feel the normal. Look how normal they were all being, look how not a big deal this all was. Not a problem, nothing near a problem. Just absolutely, unremarkably normal.

And then the lights went out.

~

Don’t close your eyes. That doesn’t help. Don’t think about sounds in the dark, not the way a rattle from the next room magnifies into the rolling back of a great metal door, or the hushed murmur of voices becomes growled orders shouted into your face. In a language you can’t understand, in a place you can’t understand, where it’s dark and you’re sweating, from heat and fear and the tightness of a cave that’s too small and shrinking every second—

Hear Loki. Hear him talk to you, get the sounds and the tone even if you don’t get the meaning. Forget about trying to get the meaning. Keep him talking. Keep away the metal doors and barked orders and the rattle of Kalashnikovs though an enclosed space. Pull Loki’s voice into you, fill you up, enough so that there’s no room for the rest of it.

Hold the image in your head, the painting that’s hanging behind you. Soft blues and greens, just leaning into abstraction the way all the best of his paintings always do, but with the unmistakable soft motion and quiet glow of water. Not deep water, not the kind that can close over your head and drag you too deep. Not that kind of water. Hold it, hold it against blazing sun and endless sand. Fall into it. Fall towards Loki. Listen to his voice.

~

The lights came back on. Before Tony had even come back to himself completely, he was on his way out. Because he had to, had to get out of there.

Loki followed. Tony would think about that later. But just then the arc reactor was throbbing in his chest, and when he made it out and up the stairs he was distracted by Brooklyn all around him. The afternoon’s summer light. The almost uncomfortable July warmth. But mostly the light.

“I’m fine,” Tony said, to a question that Loki didn’t really ask, but one that Happy was practically broadcasting all over the place. He was about two seconds from scooping Tony up into a fireman’s carry and out of there, Jesus.  “See how fine I am?”

Loki didn’t answer. Tony gave him the time to, waiting just a sliver of a second before getting into the car. But Loki didn’t say anything. Maybe he had never meant to. Maybe he just—

Tony shut the door firmly behind him.

“I mean it, Hap. Back to the tower, I’m getting in the pool and you’re going to find me like ten different recipes of pina colada.”

He could swim a few lengths, let himself float to the bottom of the pool, close his eyes and still be surrounded by that soft blue light. It would work. For at least a little while, it would work. And this time maybe it would remind him of canvas hanging at his back, pressed into his eyes in the dark room. Of cool light. Of a signature traced carefully and almost invisibly in a corner. Just blue on lighter blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to wrecked-anon for excellent betaing and also putting her hands over the screen until I got off tumblr. That's true friendship right there.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to the fab-beyond-fab vilefangirl and wrecked-anon for being glorious betas!
> 
> Updates to this will probably be irregular, certainly won't be as long, and won't always flow evenly with the events of Quorum. But I hope it's something to tide you over in-between updates! And give you something of a sense of what's going on with Tony.


End file.
